The Between
by PizzaCanBePoetsToo
Summary: Truth refuses to take Edward's Gate in exchange for Al's body. Everything seems lost. But as a strange train goes through the Between, Truth decides that he might just have a Task for Ed. A task that involves the warping of time lines and universes; and suddenly he is stuck in a place where alchemy is a legend and legends (because magic is impossible!) are true *title will change*
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first fan fiction, and am still working out the format. I am writing the majority of this when I am too tired to have the right to be writing, so sorry for any and all mistakes that will undoubtedly appear. I also apologize for the writing itself: I know I'm not the best writer out there, but I hope that at least a few people like this. If you do, please leave a comment. If you don't, leave a comment telling me why. I'm sorry if this story is too much like any other ones that are posted on here (I know that HP/FMA crossovers are extremely popular, though, like everyone else, I'm attempting to make my different). I'm not basing it off of anyone's specifically; though I do want to know if I'm stepping on anyone's toes. Thank you for even taking the time to look at this story! Hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all. All I have left is my laptop and my idea; please don't sue me for either. I am neither JK Rowling nor Hiromu Arakawa, though to be honest, if I did create a really popular story, I'd probably write crappy fanfiction on it. This is not the case however- so. No suing.**

Edward blinked. His eyes felt too dry, and the blinding white that surrounded him didn't help. His eyes were running over everything in the sterile whiteness, trying to find something, _anything_ , to focus on. But there was only his Gate, looming behind him. Its presence felt heavy with the weight of what he was about to do- yet, it was a comfortable weight: he had grown used to it sitting on his shoulders. (In the back of his head, he wondered how much taller he would stand without it weighing down his movements (even farther back, he knew that it wasn't just about height…))

"Truth! I'm back, you fucking bastard!"

Directly in front of him, a shimmering being appeared. It was almost the same color as the background, but a grey outline showed a vaguely humanoid figure. It had no features. It was a blank slate, filled only by the lazy grin that pulled itself across where a face was supposed to be. It was terrifying. It was puzzling. It was absolute.

It was Truth.

"My, my, _my._ What a tem- _per_ , my young Alchemist. And what naughty language for one so small."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT-" Edward cut himself off. A slight smirk was twisting its way onto Truth's face. Normally, he would play his part and finish his rant. But he didn't want to be played with any longer. Not today. Not when there was so much at stake. Not when _Al_ was at stake.

Taking a deep breath, he started again. "I have something you want."

Truth never stopped grinning. "And what is it that I _oh so desperately_ want?"

Ed swallowed. His eyes were no longer quite so dry. His Gate. His alchemy. The second biggest part of his life. But the thought of voice of the first ("Brother!") made him square his shoulders. _I can do this._

"I will trade my Gate for my brother's body."

Truth paused and tilted its head. "Do you know what that means?"

"Yes."

"Giving up your alchemy."

"Yes."

"Giving up everything that makes you powerful, admired, _useful_. Your only valuable asset in an extremely dangerous time, one with many who would seek to kill you and all you hold dear. The only thing that might keep you _alive_ , to enjoy the fruits of your labors."

"...Yes."

"Hmm." Truth stoked it's chin in thought. "No."

For a second, Ed couldn't comprehend it. "What?" Then it dawned. "WHY THE HELL NOT YOU FUCKHEAD!?"

Truth shrugged. "Every person has a Gate. Some are weak and some are strong. Yours may be rarer than that of a normal person, but it's not worth your brother's body."

"Not worth it?"

"Well technically, your alchemy is worth about a hundred of dear Alphonse's bodies. But that's not what equivalence of this scale is based on, or did you truly think that an _arm_ is worth an entire _soul_? No, my dear Alchemist, your _potential_ is what makes you special-the potential that your alchemy allows you. All the energy of those you best flows through me. There is no way that I would give that up, not for anything less than death."

Ed felt dizzy. "I feed you?"

"Indirectly. Much like that first Greed who got a bit too greedy, still fed his Father."

"Why are you telling me this?"

This time, the deity even let forth a bark of amused laughter. "Well, I am Truth, aren't I?"

Most people would have shut down from information overload. But Ed had the remarkable ability to process at a higher level than most people could normally, even (or maybe, especially) during high stress situations. And this ability went overdrive when it came to his younger brother, allowing him to prioritize: Alphonse always came first.

"I'll give anything. Anything at all. Please. Just give my brother back his body."

Desperation cracked and wove through the words.

Truth thought for a moment. Anything was a pretty large range after all. But almost nothing was worth the energy that Ed had supplied him, and had the potential to supply him wi-

A low horn filled the white space. It was a sound that did not belong; it was alive and lucid, much too clear to be in the surrealness of the moment. It was sharp like a bullet, cutting through the many muffled layers of dreams and Truth.

Ed heard the sound. It rang through his skull, and slowly he turned to see something completely unexpected.

A silvery train plowed through the blankness. Steam bellowed out from it's top like the mouth of a dragon. Huge wheels pumped at its sides. The sides were smooth and magnificent. Clunks came from where the wheels turned on the tracks. But as soon as the last set of wheels ran over the track it disappeared. It seemed more than a train; It seemed sentient, and proud. In gleaming letters on the side were the words HOGWART'S EXPRESS.

Another low boom filled the air, before it wove out of the whiteness, and out of sight.

Ed was dazed and slightly in shock. "What the fuck was that?"

When no witty or perplexing answer came, he looked once again at Truth. And was even more shocked. The permanent grin had become an angry slash that almost seemed to rip the head in two. Whatever the train meant, the deity had not liked it at all. It almost seemed repulsed by the sight of the train, but Ed couldn't imagine why.

Suddenly, Truth's attention snapped to Ed. He had the feeling that for the first time, someone was truly analyzing him. He felt transparent in that moment. Almost as if while that much focus was singled on him, he didn't exist. When Truth spoke, he almost didn't hear.

"I'll take you up on your deal."

"What?"

Annoyance found it's way onto the slant of Truth's scowl. "I will give you brother back his body."

"HELL YES!" For a second, everything was forgotten in the euphoria and knowledge that his Alphonse might finally be able to touch, to taste, to smell, to _live_ again.

But then he thought about what he could never again forget. "Equivalent Exchange." he whispered. Then he straightened. "What do you want from me?"

Truth was silent for a moment. "I have a Task for you to do."

"What is it?"

Truth suddenly walked over to Ed. "Hey! What are you doing?" The deity's hand touched his forehead though, and everything went blank.

When Ed opened his eyes, he was staring at what appeared to be the inside of a train. It was a fancy luxury apartment that he would never be able to afford- with soft leather seats, doors that closed and thin carpet. Well, it would normally be expensive, but it was made entirely of silvery white. It took a moment longer than he would ever admit to realize: this was the train that had aggravated Truth to the point of accepting Ed's deal.

The Hogwarts's Express.

He sat up, and realized that his injuries were gone. All the scrapes, stab wounds, bruises and miscellaneous hurts from the Promised Day had disappeared. His leg was still absent, and the scars from missions were still present, but at least there was no chance of him bleeding to death in the present.

When Ed stuck his head into the hallway, he wasn't that surprised to see that no one was there. Curious to what was going on though, he opened the door to the compartment across from the one he had woke up in.

 _So there are other people here_ , was his first thought. His second thought was, _these are not normal people._

There were three of them; one woman and two men. They were all wearing dresses and were waving strange...sticks animatedly.

"You're superstitious! That's nothing more than a bunch of lies to help calm the masses! I thought better of you, Amanda!" One of the men was saying to the woman.

"Uh… hello?" Edward started awkwardly.

It seemed that the people in the compartment didn't hear him. The woman was protesting to what the man said. "No, it's not! I worked in the Department of Mysteries. I saw the prophecy being transferred in there! I heard that it spoke of a way to defeat Voldemort!"

"Don't say his name!" the first one hissed fearfully. "And did you ever personally hear the prophecy? No? Then you can't know that it wasn't just a rumor started by the Order of the Phoenix, trying to get more followers!"

"You may not like them, but they aren't that bad," yelled Amanda. "Dumbledore would never manipulate people that way!"

The man snorted. "That senile fool? He's getting older. He won't be able to protect everyone forever."

The man who hadn't said anything yet quietly but firmly spoke. "Amanda's' not talking about forever, Jim. She is talking about holding off until the prophecy comes to pass."

With the slight break in the conversation, Edward tried again. "Who are you guys? Where are we?"

No one responded.

"Damn the so-called prophecy! Even if it was true, the Order couldn't even keep it a secret. What does that say for their competence?"

Ed finally had enough. "Hey, why are you ignoring me?" he yelled as he rudely walked all the way into the compartment. When they still talked over him as if he didn't exist, he got in the loud man's face. "I'm talking to you!" When even that didn't cause any response, he grabbed the hand that had held the stick for emphasis.

His hand passed right through.

Dumb with shock, he stared at his left hand. It was its normal fleshy self. Hesitantly, he tried to touch the man with his newly restored hand. It too passed straight through as though he didn't exist. Mind racing with equations, possibilities and explanations, he stumbled out of the compartment, and back into the one he had woken up in.

He then collapsed on the chair. But if he went through people, why wasn't he going through the floorboards and being crushed under the train? Why wasn't he going down even farther than that and sinking into the earth? He opened and closed doors earlier. How the hell did he do that? What sort of place did Truth send him to?

"Calm down, Mr. Alchemist."

Truth, in its humanoid form, was spread out on the opposite side of the room. "I have to explain your Task to you. I'd rather you be able to retain it, so if you can, please LISTEN."

Ed wasn't quite sure why he wasn't surprised to see Truth. Maybe it was because something was wrong; something was messing with Truth's laws. So all he did in response was nod, still in a form of shock.

"There are many worlds, and all of them have their own Absolute Truths. These laws cannot be broken, but these laws only apply to their specific world. In yours, the only law is Equivalence. There are places out there where there are no laws, and there are places where the only law is imbalance. But there is one thing, and one thing alone that every world must follow: do not cross the boundaries."

"Wait, wait, wait a second." Ed spoke incredulously. "You are telling me that there are places where there is no Equivalent Exchange."

"Yes, boy, that's what I'm saying." it hissed. "And if you interrupt again, our deal is off, and you don't get your brother back."

Ed shut up.

"In one of the worlds, there is Magic. Magic is like Alchemy, but it has no Exchange and can do things that would be impossible with science. There are few who are born with the ability to call forth Magic, and they squander it: using it for mundane tasks and never paying the price for using it!"

Truth spat out the word Magic. Here, on the train, it's repulsion was even clearer than it had been before.

"Normally I wouldn't care. But there is a man in the Magic world. His name is Tom Riddle, but he goes by Lord Voldemort. And he is breaking the most fundamental law that the universe holds: he mesing with other worlds."

"He is on a path seeking absolute power in his world, and to do so, he is delving into the depths of the Darkest forms of Magic. He is disturbing the flow of his world to such a degree that the energy displacements are rippling outward and into others. That's what this train is," here, its voice almost broke with disgust. "A way that the disturbed energy is leaving his world. Too many with magic are dying, and it's throwing the world off its axis. The souls of the magically dead need somewhere to go, and they are being shoved into other dimensions where they don't belong. The reason why none of the souls in this train recognize you is because they can't comprehend your soul; it's so different from theirs'. "

Ed wasn't exactly comprehending it fully either. The sheer vastness of the information being told to him was huge. The implications were shattering. But there was a few things that Truth hadn't elaborated on, and it was this where he focused his thoughts. "What is my task then? And why are we on this train?"

"We are on this train because it has a direct link to the world that you need to go too, as distasteful as it is. I can't take you there, because _I_ still have to follow the fundamental laws. This also means that I cannot make deals with you while you are in this world-"

Ed interrupted, panicked. "Wait, so I'm going to lose my Alchemy?"

"Don't interrupt!" Truth snapped, "You proved that your Gate is yours not mine, correct? No, you won't lose your alchemy, but you'll lose the ability to make deals for things where you lack the proper materials. "

"Your task is to defeat Tom Riddle. I don't care if you kill him, or if you merely subdue him. The important thing is that he loses the capability to gain this sort of power again."

"Ok… Ok." Ed muttered. "I can do this." he looked up at Truth with his golden eyes full of steelhard determination. "And while I'm there, my brother is back in his own body?"

"Yes- though I should warn you- time works… differently in between dimensions. You could live a thousand lives in the world of magic before an hour passed in our world."

Ed had to pause for another moment, taking that in. From the way that Truth spoke, it seemed that it might take a long time to complete the Task; a long time away from Al: the person who he had never spent more than days away from since he was born. But it was _for_ Al.

"I'm ready." And the Fullmetal Alchemist was gone from his world, the train, the Between; and fell into the world of Magic.

Truth looked at all the future possibilities that might play out for the elder Elric in the other dimension. Only now that the Alchemist was there, the futures all took a turn for the worse, worse than what Truth had anticipated. Ed would fail, the world of Magic would collapse under the weight of imbalanced energy, and the displace that would come from such a powerful world would ripple through the universe; potentially destroying Truth's own realm.

It thought. It thought on a level of thinking that was not coherent and definitely not comprehensible on a level of anything less than gods. Millions of voices floated through the Truth, each clamoring to be heard. Somewhere among the crowd, one of them yelled out an idea. Other voices considered the idea. Most thought about it and accepted it and passed it on. Before long, Truth (or at least the majority) was agreed.

Its sentient form tore a hole in the fabric of the white space, and slipped through. And then it was there.

The Between.

Each dimension held its own place in the universe. Each had its own deities. And the gaps in those dimensions, the places where there was nothing, was the Between. It was the Between that was the ultimate ruler of the universe, in a sense. It held the power to enforce the Fundamental Law. To most deities, this was the same thing. But even all-powerful beings can be harmed, and it was the Between that was being ripped at the seams as ripple effects swept through the universe.

"Why are you here?"

Truth didn't try to find where the voice was coming from. Unlike the individual dimensions, Between could not create a sentient form. The "voice" wasn't even really a voice; it was a stream of consciousness through which concepts were relayed.

Truth respectfully said, "I am here with a possible solution to the Magic problem."

"What is it?"

"I have sent one of my representatives to the Magic world. He will defeat the source of the imbalance."

"How?"

"He is strong, and he is determined. Once the source is gone, the ripples will eventually smooth over. However, I have peered at the future for the Magic realm through my representative. The source of our problems apparently can only be killed by a young boy who is protected by his mother's love. But this child does not seem to be strong enough. I doubt that he will be able to stop our problem; he seems to be influenced and manipulated rather easily."

"What do you suggest?"

"Switch their destinies. Allow the original child to live as he would have had it not been for the imbalance. Place my representative in a position where he can learn the art of magic, and use it to defeat our problem."

Truth could feel the heavy weight of the Between pressing down onto it as the greater deity considered the proposition. In a space of time that may have been forever, the Between relayed, "It is done."


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape was not a patient man. Yes, he could look at a simmering pot for hours, not losing concentration. Yes, he could wait for months, as moves that had long been forgotten came into play, and helped him complete his plans. Yes, he could even watch the love of his life fall in love with another man- and stand by for decades for her to wake up. Yes, one might think that the Potion's Master of Hogwarts was a patient man, but he had absolutely no patience for dealing with incompetent fools. Unfortunately, being in a teaching position for ages 11-17 meant that he was surrounded by idiocy of all levels almost every day. It was hard to bear, but the man did it for the safety of a specific person. And even if she never did come to love him, Snape knew that he would always be in love with Lily Evans (he could never bear to think of her as Potter's).

The point was that Severus Snape was not a patient man. And when he had news-especially of this caliber- any scraps that may have remained were obliterated. So it was a single-minded determination that he shoved students out of the way. A few started to yell at him, but stopped upon realizing who it was. It was only October, but there wasn't a single student that wasn't scared of him, and he used that to his full advantage when shoving the children out of the way.

When he reached the gargoyle, he spat out, "Wheezing Beans", and was admitted inside. Snape nearly kicked down the door in his haste to meet Dumbledore, but refrained upon hearing voices inside. Recognizing the voices made him want to kick the door for an entirely different reason. A quick intake of breath, steeling of eyes, and hardening of a mask, and he stepped inside.

The room was as it always was: apparently unorganized and unmistakingly magical. Fawks, who was on his perch and burning brilliantly, gave off a squawk to alert those in the office to his presence.

"Ah, Severus!" Dumbledore grinned and half rose from his chair. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Yeah, Snivels. You know what they say about the bad penny." James Potter grinned, too. Unlike Dumbledore, it wasn't for the joy at his presence.

"James." It was her voice that hurt. It was Lily that he was doing this for, but he couldn't even be in the same room as her without his heart breaking all over again.

Snape kept his face carefully blank and acknowledged their presence with a tense, "Potter. Lily." Then he turned to Dumbledore, and said, "We need to speak."

"Anything that needs to be said, can be said in front of the Potters."

Snape gritted his teeth. But he was not a patient man, and this information was particularly time sensitive. "The matter that you had me investigating? It has come to pass."

Dumbledore stared at him. Utter shock was clear on his features. "What matter?" James cut in.

The headmaster sprung to his feet. "It would take too long to explain! Gather the order! Converge at Headquarters immediately!"

"Dumbledore," Lily started. "What-"

"No time! Go!"

…

Soon after, the Order was gathered in Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody's home. It was a modest house, but had turned… unusual under the man's residence. Mirrors and drapes were slung across the kitchen. Potions were bubbling on the kitchen table. There were jars that no one cared to look too closely at on the shelves in place of anything edible. Indeed, when Sturgie Podmore opened the refrigerator to try to find a drink of some sort, there was a head that stared back at him. Overall, it was uncomfortable, and everyone was sort of huddled together to avoid being too close to the edges of the room, where the strange things lurked.

But it wasn't just the depressing room that made the 20-odd people inside tense. Dumbledore had called an emergency meeting of the inner core of the Order of the Phoenix; something that had not happened since the prophecy had been issued.

People were talking in small groups, worried. Only one person stood to the side, and the rest of the groups glared distractingly at him. Even though Snape had switched sides, out of the people in the room only himself, Lily, and James knew the whole reason why. And it was likely that James would never stop glaring at him.

All the muttered ceased as Dumbledore walked into the room. Even though they were all adults (some nearly as old as Dumbledore himself) they still could not escape feeling as though he was their teacher. And it was out of this respect that none of them bombarded him with questions even though they clearly wished too.

Everyone's eyes followed Dumbledore as he walked to the center of the room. Why had the meeting been called? Was it another death? Another Benjy Fenwick, were there were only bits of him recovered? Another Marlene McKinnon, whose entire family was murdered by Death Eaters? Or maybe… something good?

"My friends," the headmaster's warm voice filled the room. "Through these last few years we have faced many difficulties and hardships…"

"Understatement." muttered Sirius.

"...but finally, we have hope."

The intensity in the room intensified.

"You all know that there is a prophecy that concerns Voldemort" a few people flinched, though no one said anything "and his possible demise. I cannot share the whole prophecy with you, and for that, I apologize. However, it speaks of a… person, I suppose, that comes from an unknown source, and has power that can defeat him." the excitement was mounting. "Because of this, I have been tracking power surges among other variables that I believe might lead us to this person. And,"

Everyone held their breath.

"I think that I may have located them."

Pandemonium.

Shrieks and yells of joy all fought to overwhelm each other. Hope! The possible end to the war! End of Voldemort! End of the killings, disappearances, brutal torturing, the _fear_!

Only a few people were not celebrating. These were the people waiting for the other shoe to drop. Moody, both the Potter's, Sirius, and Snape all knew that something else was coming. Snape, because he had been privy to the entire search; the Potters because they had seen the look on Dumbledore's face when he was addressing Snape earlier, Sirius because James told him; and Moody because Moody was a pessimist who never expected anything positive about anything.

A few of the people noticed the lack of enthusiasm from the prominent leaders (and Snape), and correctly assumed that there was more to the news than that. Within a minute, everyone was once again silent, and watching Dumbledore.

"What else?" Alice Longbottom asked.

Dumbledore appeared more tense than before and sighed. "We don't know where this person is." He admitted. "A while ago, Severus and I set up a mix of magic and potions to determine the power surges that don't fit within the normal energy of this world's magic and technology. One of these spikes was released today; more powerful than what we have seen yet. All we were able to determine before the power dispersed, was that it was somewhere within Great Britain. We still don't know exactly where we can find this being."

"Then what was the point of telling us!" an outraged Fabian yelled.

Dumbledore's striking blue eyes fell upon the man, and he could not help it: he shivered. "My boy, before, there was doubt about whether the prophecy held any merit. This proves that it does, as well as assures us that they are inside our country. This is quite good news, indeed."

It was quiet again for a moment. And then Lily spoke up. "Hope." everyone turned to her. She blushed a little, but said again. "It brings us hope. That we can win this. With this power, we can defeat Voldemort."

The elation that had previously infected the entire room had fallen somewhat. Even though Lily's words helped, they were still a long way off, it seemed.

But not that far off in actual distance.

In London, an overworked woman was doing paperwork. Mary Abbott was the patron for the Rose House of Orphaned Children. At 49 years old, she gave the appearance of a much older woman; the years had not been kind, and the stress of handling so many children gave her a run-down overwhelmed sort of look. Never the less, she was kind to the children in her care, if a bit short with them. She just never had the time.

The children had already gone to bed. The paperwork she was dealing with was actually transfer papers; and not for one of the kids. It was for Mary herself. The papers were a resume for another job- as a teacher in a small town far away from the weight of London.

She had been told that this was "work for the soul." Instead, it was a bleak, thankless job that put work on her soul. On her bad nights, she wondered if leaving them all to starve and die would allow her to move on with her life. A life that was slowly being consumed under the suffocating weight of decades of desolation. Hopefully, she would regain the spark that had been lost many years ago once she moved away. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully…

Mary sighed as she signed her name on the latest of sheets. _I need a smoke_. After a brief internal battle, she gave in, and pulled out her packet. She knew that she needed to quit before she went into teaching, but right now… it was just too damn much. So, with these thoughts in mind, she stepped outside to light it up.

The first thing that she noticed among walking outside was the cold. It was raining, and almost freezing; indeed, she could see a few stray snowflakes lazily sinking to the ground. It was windy, Mary thought, but not so windy that she couldn't smoke as long as she stayed under the roof.

The second thing that she noticed was the child. It was not unusual for poverty-stricken parents to leave their offspring of the steps of an orphanage- but most had the sense to do it when the weather wouldn't give it hyperthermia.

The kid was small, and wrapped in a crimson jacket like it was a blanket. Sighing (and putting off the smoke until later) she picked it up and stepped back inside.

 _What do I do with this?_

"Elizabeth!" she yelled. Elizabeth was a 32-year-old care worker, who was the only one that might be trusted with the health inspection of a child. Besides, she very rarely slept, and might take it off of Mary's hands.

Hurried footsteps came from the hallway to Mary's right and Elizabeth burst in. She scanned the scene with wary eyes. "Another dropoff?", she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yep." Mary was too tired to offer anymore.

Without another word, she took the child from Mary's hands. The same situation had happened too many times over the years for her to not know what was going on.

The child had a head full of golden hair that meant it had to be at least a year old. It was sleeping peacefully, but that might be from the cold freezing the heart. Hurriedly, Elizabeth unwrapped the jacket to feel the heartbeat.

It was surprisingly fierce for someone so small and cold. "You're a fighter." she muttered. She noticed two things at the same time: that it was a boy, and that there were scars.

His entire body was covered in them. They were not the type of scars that might be natural for a baby to have: like small incisions for surgery, being dropped, or from a fire. The boy's scars were horrific. Long gashes that seemed to have been scarred over for years (but that's impossible, he's probably _a_ year old) and newer holes littered his tiny frame. There were even some burn marks, and what looked like a stab wound that was never treated on his lower torso. But the worst part was his right arm and left leg. They were grotesque, twisted and malnourished. They looked paler than the rest of the boy, and even though they lacked the scars that covered the rest, they were the most horrifying of all of his (injuries? abuse?).

Elizabeth didn't know whether she gasped or not, but suddenly Mary was there, looking at the small child in a mix of revulsion and panic. "What happened?..." Mary trailed off.

Elizabeth didn't say anything. She couldn't. All she was thinking was _, Something terrible._

The next day (or later the same day depending on how you look at it) the boy woke up. It wasn't a messy affair with tears and/or screaming like most babies. In fact, Elizabeth may have missed it had she not been in the same room as him.

She was filling out the paperwork for the boy. It was clear that no one wanted him, otherwise, why leave him on the doorstep to the orphanage? Her grip on the pen she was holding tightened as she thought with grim determination, _Even if anyone did want him back, they're not getting him_. The injuries that he had suffered… working at the orphanage made her no stranger to abuse among children, but this was among the worst she had ever seen. And he was by and far the youngest she had ever known to have had this extensive damage. Anyone who let such a young child suffer (directly or indirectly) was someone who should never come near a child again.

Her thoughts were echoed by the rest of the orphanage's staff, and a unanimous decision was made to give the boy a place in the home. Elizabeth had filled out the majority of the paperwork for him, but she still needed his name; hence why she was waiting for him to wake up.

She just happened to glance up at the right moment to see the boy yawn in a way that stretched his whole body. Like a kitten, she thought as the boy unfolded his limbs. Wearily, his eyes started to open, and then glared at the sunlight that was coming in through the window. Definitely a kitten. Amused, she continued to watch his slow rise to consciousness. And then he opened his eyes all the way. And Elizabeth gasped.

Because the boy had suns in his gaze.

The eyes were larger than a normal child's. The irises were golden and shining, with yellow and light brown flecked floating through the molten color. There seemed to be many layers in his eyes, and Elizabeth never knew there were so many shades of gold. They were eyes that may have been dulled with sleep, but weren't those of a child; instead they were fashioned for a feral creature. Even though she knew that this was a child who was not capable of any complex thinking, she felt as though she was being studied; analyzed.

She wondered if she passed.

Not a kitten. A wildcat.

While Elizabeth lost herself in the gaze of the strange boy, he tilted his head at her. Curious. Wondering. Once again, she was struck by the intelligence that glinted through the gold.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and started in her 'baby voice'. She cooed, "Hey sweetie. Can you tell me your name?"

The boy was silent.

Elizabeth sighed. While some babies could speak as early as 7 months, it was rare that they were _aware_ enough to know their own so soon- especially not in the first year. The boy couldn't have been much older than that. The whole plan was a bit of a longshot. She was about to write Conner (her nephew's name) into the blank.

"Edhaward."

Elizabeth looked up.

The boy opened his mouth again. "Edhward Elrihc."

Slowly, the woman repeated back. "Edward… Elric?"

The boy's expression cleared. His golden eyes were joyful. A happy noise burst from his throat. An infectious grin spread to Elizabeth as she wrote out Edward's name.


End file.
